Interludes
by ncfan
Summary: Drabbles connected to my oneshot "Suna's Red Sand". .: Chapter Six: The Resemblance is Uncanny :.
1. Inexplicable Situations

This drabble takes place in the same universe as much (much, much longer) oneshot _Suna's Red Sand. _There may be more some time in the future, but not right now. The timeline is about eight years pre-series.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

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He didn't even like kids all that much. Granted, the one he was holding right now and the boy's older siblings were alright, but they still made him gnash his teeth at times.

Especially when Kankuro whipped out those little snake puppets of his. Sasori had felt obliged to destroy the elder Sabaku brother's toys on more than one occasion; tears, whether crocodilian or genuine could not make him feel guilty.

Sasori had no idea exactly why he had agreed to this; as he had made it very clear to Yashamaru, he was no good with children, and he barely knew Temari, Kankuro and Gaara anyway. But Yashamaru had insisted, just for tonight, that Sasori _please _take one of them off his hands. Yashamaru looked far too much like his sister when he was pleading for it to do anything but make Sasori's stomach tie itself into knots.

Yashamaru _owed_ him.

And since Sasori had the slight addiction to adrenaline rushes that had not waned as he had grown to adulthood, he supposed it had to have been four-year-old Gaara he had unceremoniously plucked up, the younger redhead asking, again and again, if he was in trouble until Sasori had to snap at him that _no_, he was not in trouble, so hard that the boy's pale cheeks flushed and his eyes watered slightly.

Sasori remained entirely unapologetic.

Gaara. The runt of the litter, and yet easily the most dangerous out of Karura's three children (Sasori refused to factor in Takeo when looking upon the 'pack', as Baki was so fond of calling them), and somehow the best-natured out of the lot.

Holding a sleeping toddler in his lap, Sasori wasn't entirely sure how he had gotten to this point without the sky falling and crashing on his head.

A sharp hand rapped on the door of Sasori's apartment in downtown Suna, and Baki stepped in without bothering to ask to be let in.

"Sasori-dono, I—" Baki stopped, mouth open, both incredulous and aghast, at the sight before him.

Sasori glared irritably up at him. "Shut your mouth before I have to stitch it shut. I am the boy's godfather, after all."

Despite being only two years younger, Baki addressed him with all the deference due to a much older and much more experienced nin (and Sasori supposed he did fall into the latter category), but that deference seemed to be sorely taxed now. "Sasori-dono, how…"

"Don't ask me."

"This isn't exactly your normal area of expertise, is it?"

"Go screw yourself. This is the first time he's ever slept without all Hell breaking loose. I don't really give a damn if it adversely affects my dignity. Anyone who starts calling me "sissy" won't live to regret it."


	2. Ahem

Obviously, this takes place just after it's been found out that the Yondaime Kazekage is dead.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

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"Now that we are certain that the Yondaime Kazekage is dead, there is a pressing matter that must be attended to."

Baki winced as he exchanged a weary glance with Ebizo. Both knew what was coming. Baki was present only in his capacity as jonin commander of Sunagakure, but he was still afforded a full voice at the council table, so he had no compunction about speaking up. "If you mean to name Yondaime-sama's successor, may I make a suggestion?"

"That's not what I'm speaking of, Baki-dono." And there went any hopes Baki had that the councilors wouldn't be broaching _that_ subject. "What are we going to do about the jinchuuriki of the Shukaku?"

Oh, yes, it just had to be that subject.

Itsuo stared around the table with an infuriatingly sage expression on his face. "Now that the Yondaime is dead, the jinchuuriki is no longer indispensable. I feel we should take action to bring an end to the host's reign of terror."

"I agree!" Nobu concurred vehemently. "That boy has been nothing but a menace since the day he was born! It's in the best interest of this village to have him put down!"

_Put down? Gaara is a boy, not a dog…_

"Now, Nobu-dono," Baki tried to reason with him, a vein starting to twitch in his jaw. "Gaara is not irredeemable—"

"Be reasonable, Baki-dono!" A curl of irritation swept through Baki as Ryouhei stood up in anger, hands braced on the table; Ryouhei was ever the persuasively eloquent voice of irrationality on the council table. "You've mentored the host yourself! You know better than any of us that he's a monster! How many more of our children must he slaughter before he's stopped? He must be brought down!"

They couldn't be reached. Baki sighed. _Of course_ they couldn't be reached.

Baki cast a _'Help. Me!' _sort of look at Ebizo, but he only shrugged helplessly, and the sigh that escaped Baki's lips was now irritable. Though the Akasuna as a whole still knew how to throw their weight around, Ebizo himself had lost influence with the council over the years.

With his one good eye, Baki eyed the councilors broodingly. He'd have to do something drastic to bring them to heel. Maybe order a pre-emptive house arrest, for their own safety of course. Then, to arrange some convenient disappearances…

"Ahem."

Just as Baki was working out how to implement his plans, a small sound echoed across the room.

The effect it had on the councilors was immediate.

Sasori, who had up to this point been silent, was sitting in a plain, straight-backed wooden chair pressed against the far wall. Not being a councilor or one of the councilor's aides, he wasn't technically permitted in the council chambers while the council was in session, but if Sasori wanted to go somewhere, _no one_ was about to stop him.

The councilors, sans Baki and Ebizo, started pulling some _very_ interesting faces; even Ryouhei, militant scaremonger that he was, paled and fell silent.

Itsuo, the man who had originally put forward the idea of killing Gaara, cringed noticeably and decided to try a different tack. "I suggest that we consider re-opening diplomatic relations with Kirigakure. The Godaime Mizukage is a far more reasonable woman than her predecessor…"

The aura of smugness radiating off of Sasori was palpable. There weren't too many men who could make a room of councilors come within seconds of a nervous breakdown just by clearing their throat, after all.


	3. Arrows from God

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

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"Why doesn't God just hurry up and shoot me now?"

"I wasn't aware that you believed in divine intervention, Karura."

"I am steadily becoming more devout. I'm just praying now that sometime soon the fléchette of _God_ will come hurtling out of a clear blue sky and get me right between the eyes." Karura tapped the middle of her temples, between her eyes, for emphasis. "Instant kill; put me out of my misery."

Sasori restrained a smile, eyeing her exasperated face as she sank back into the dark brown couch cushions, frowning petulantly and crossing her arms across her chest. Hot sunlight poured in diagonal shafts from the windows that extended from halfway up to the junction of the opposite wall and the ceiling.

Temari and Kankuro were zooming around the room like wind-up toys, the latter on thoroughly unsteady legs. Finally, they collapsed, exhausted, on the rug that covered the cool stone floor, gasping wildly.

"Am I to take it that the joys of motherhood are growing a bit stale?" Sasori rested his hand on his forehead, elbow on the arm of the couch.

Kankuro meanwhile tugged on his sister's hair, which of course set them both off again.

"No! I love them both to death, but they're driving me nuts."

Sasori at that moment chose to snatch Temari off the ground, grabbing her around the waist.

"Leggo!" the toddler shrieked, wriggling like a fish in his grasp.

"No."

Karura rolled her eyes. "You're as bad as they are."

Then, Temari did something that made Sasori wish he had let go of her, as the sound of teeth sinking into flesh rang through the air.

Sasori let out a roar of pain and dropped her like a burning brand. Temari sped off.

As Sasori fell back onto the couch and lifted a hand green with healing chakra to his wound, muttering, "No two year old has teeth _that_ sharp," Karura stood up, staring wildly at the door where her two children had run through.

"Then again, I think I'd like it better if God were to shoot me with a crossbow. Close range would be preferable."


	4. Worthy Opponent

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

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"Is it true that Akasuna no Chiyo is dead?"

Sasori looked up in surprise, red-brown eyes fringed in kohl scanning Tsunade's face before answering. "Yes, she is."

The way Tsunade reacted was totally uncharacteristic of what Sasori expected of her; she frowned and nodded. "I'm…sorry to hear that."

Sasori narrowed his eyes, peering hard at the Hokage. He sensed something "off" about this whole thing. "Tsunade-sama, if the positions were reversed, Baachan would not lose any sleep over your death."

The cold night air got a little colder with Tsunade's harsh laugh. Sasori tilted his head to one side, slightly; Chiyo had the same laugh. "And I don't lose any over hers. It's just that…" her smooth, flawless face contorted in frustration "…Sasori-san, are you familiar with the concept of a worthy opponent?"

He was, and nodded. Plainly frustrated and glad to vent, Tsunade burst out, "She was a thorn in my side, but I enjoyed outplaying her. It actually presented a challenge. She was the only one in that whole village I could _enjoy_ outplaying."

Sasori took a moment, only a moment, to come to the conclusion that, in one fell stroke, Tsunade had confirmed what Chiyo had always vehemently claimed of her, that she was a hypocrite.

Even with the somber mood, Sasori couldn't pass up the opportunity to offer insight. "I'm sure Baachan felt exactly the same way about you, Tsunade-sama."

It was a lie, a smooth, bald-faced lie. If Tsunade had been the one who died, Chiyo would have roused herself to make the long trip to Konoha just to dance on her grave.


	5. That Old Affliction

This could really go in the _Suna's Red Sand_ universe and in my personal canon universe, but I just wanted to post it here since it really doesn't stand well on its own. Hope you guys enjoy it. And just a word to the wise, I imagine Karura as being three years old than Sasori, and Yashamaru as a year older

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

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"Freckles are what happens when your sunburn doesn't peel evenly, and they are a particular affliction of redheads."

Sasori flinched as Chiyo pulled a bit of peeling skin from his cheek, and she clucked reprovingly, unsparing of her nine-year-old grandson.

Another long venture into the wartime desert had left them all like this to some extent. Karura and Yashamaru simply tanned instead of burned, Karura far much more than her brother, who as a medic-in-training had stayed in the medical tent often; their hair, both shades of pale brown-gold beforehand, had lightened to deep gold, honeyed and sandy.

But Sasori, rash little child that he was, had taken no precautions and ended up scarlet in the skin, almost as vivid as his hair.

"Well, I think freckles are cute," Karura defended her friend stoutly. The tanned look appeared best on her, a slim, lithe preteen with a cloud of gold hair. Whereas Yashamaru ended up only slightly tanned, and, apart from the freckles, Sasori would likely stay milky pale, Karura had been gifted with an even bronze tan.

Sasori's face grew slightly warmer, and Chiyo slapped him good-naturedly on the shoulder.

Then, Sasori's sharp yelp reminded her that he'd been sun-burnt _there_, too.


	6. The Resemblance is Uncanny

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

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It had been the first night since they all got back to Suna and, for safety, Chiyo and Ebizo put Baki, his students, Sasori and Deidara up in their large house outside of the city limits, saying that they'd be more than happy to shelter them for the night.

Deidara and Kankuro were at this point both ready to just sack it out and they both enjoyed Chiyo's huge house to no end. Temari and Gaara were considerably more reserved.

Baki was thinking that, if anyone in the village got any bright ideas and got it into their heads that it would be a good idea to kill the now-dead Yondaime's children in order to cut off the main line of the Sabaku clan, it would be much easier to defend from Chiyo's house as a base of operations, since she and Sasori were two of Suna's most fearsome puppeteers and the number of traps the old woman had laid out throughout her home were absolutely legendary.

Sasori was thinking that if anyone made any jokes about him living with his grandmother, they were going to be _very_ ill before too terribly long.

The morning came, eventually, though neither Baki nor Sasori got _any _sleep; they were a bit busy jumping at every loud sound that came from outside. Morning found them, Chiyo and Ebizo sitting at the table in Chiyo's kitchen, Sasori and Baki silent and somewhat surly, Sasori nursing a cup of steaming black coffee made from Chiyo's strong desert brew.

His half-open eyes scanned the bizarre architecture of the house. He had loved exploring this house when he was a child but as an adult it just gave him headaches. It was certainly up to Chiyo's standards, though; Sasori knew his grandmother had overseen the building of her house carved into the countryside and had given it it's bizarre shape for the direct purpose of it being impossible for intruders to navigate.

Didn't stop it from being headache-inducing, though.

Quick footsteps sounded on the living room before, as Sasori watched, lazy and uncaring as Temari came running up the staircase towards the kitchen.

Of course, when she finally got into the kitchen, a great deal of choking ensued.

Chiyo had been reading her newspaper at the table again (Ebizo always complained about how rude it was; she just flicked a rice grain at him and kept on reading) and couldn't see what Baki and Sasori were quite so upset about. So she flipped down the paper and demanded to know what was going on.

The answer was immediate, without anyone answering her.

She registered the naked shock in Baki's one visible eye, the barely hidden agony in Sasori's. And then she looked at Temari.

Temari's hair was coarser than her mother's had been and thicker, and the ends stuck out, but otherwise, when down, the resemblance was even more uncanny than usual.

She smiled pleasantly at the fifteen-year-old while somehow managing to simultaneously glare at her grandson and the jonin beside him. "Temari, why don't you go back and put your hair up before you come eat breakfast?"

Temari was taken aback. "Why, Chiyo-sama?"

"Because you're giving your sensei and Sasori heart palpitations. Now go."


End file.
